Mise En Place
by PleasePleaseDon'tKillMe
Summary: Mise En Place-"everything in its place" Though muggle-borns are common at Hogwarts, they do not usually require the use of forearm crutches. Crippled from a tragic accident, Kirstin Cooper, a smart witch with a love of cooking and potions, must navigate Hogwarts without the use of her legs. In an attempt to heal herself, she resolves to create a potion which will regrow bones.
1. A Penny Saved

Chapter One

A Penny Saved

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Harry Potter, but I don't. However poor I am because of this misfortune, I will never stoop to eating instant ramen.

"Kirstin Cooper."

Kirstin inhaled a shaky breath, moving toward the intimidating woman calling names from a roll of parchment. Leaving the safety of the disorganized line of new students, she felt exposed. The whispers began. Her arms felt unsteady, her legs—her legs did not matter, they did not work anyway. The distance between the mass of nervous first year students and the stool beside the professor was unending. She placed her forearm crutches in front of her, standing on her ruined legs for a moment before swinging them forward. Set, swing, set, swing, set, swing…

Kirstin knew what the older students sitting at the four tables were whispering.

"What happened?"

"Are her legs deformed?"

"I feel sorry for her."

Kirstin hated the last phrase; she did not want their pity. Every time someone looked at her crutches with sympathy she was reminded of what she had lost. The future she had lost.

She sat upon the small, three-legged stool. A ratty, patched hat fell over her eyes, turning the world black.

"Ah, now here's an interesting one. I've never seen a student like you before."

Kirstin jumped. The hat had talked, _in her mind. _A slight uneasiness passed through her. Could the hat read her mind, hear what she was thinking?

"Of course I can. And what a marvelous mind you have! You could do well in Ravenclaw, very well. There is also ambition, a hunger, but I fear Slytherin would destroy you. You are very courageous, always facing odds, never backing down. That's good; you'll need it to live with those injuries. I think you'll be a GRIFFINDOR!"

Polite clapping ensued, and the black curtain lifted. Kirstin joined the table beckoning to her. She sat on the bench filled with people smiling kindly, her back toward the table. She rearranged her skirt, bunching extra fabric between her legs, and lifted each leg over the bench with her hands. The smiles around her faded; people looked away, uncomfortable, as if they had unduly witnessed something intimate and confidential.

The butterflies in Kirstin's stomach became smaller and disappeared as she watched dozens of students don the hat and join their new houses. Soon, hunger made her impatient. She stopped paying attention to which student went where.

"Mathias Selwyn."

The name jolted Kirstin back to reality. She looked up at the tall, dark-haired boy walking toward the hat with calm, sure steps. The hat yelled SLYTHERIN without hesitation. Most students' faces had shone with relief as they slid off the stool and hurried toward their table. However, the pale boy showed no expression and his confident strides did not change in pace. No polite smile was exchanged with his cheering housemates, only a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Kirstin thought of her strange meeting with Mathias. She had been shopping for school supplies with her uncle Dan, whom she had not known was a wizard until that day.

It was mid afternoon when Dan declared they had everything on the list.

"There's just one extra thing. You go eat some ice cream while I get it." He put two silver coins in her hand and hurried away, his robes billowing behind him.

Kirstin turned toward the ice cream shop adjacent a side street and looked down the dim alley. Knockturn Alley, according to the marker. A sign with a boiling cauldron hung from one of the nearby buildings.

She sometimes went to run-down, locally owned stores with her mom. The prices were often better and they carried eccentric stock mainstream stores did not. Kirstin decided to take a quick look.

The temperature was ten degrees colder in the alley. Crowded shops with crooked walls loomed over the narrow lane, blocking out the sun. Kirstin had a distinct feeling this was the more unsavory part of the wizarding shopping center. Men hid their faces beneath dark cloaks, and hags smiled at her with rotting teeth, asking if she needed assistance. A lady with frizzled brown hair and a large mole on her cheek whispered promises of new legs and beauty. Foul breath tickled the back of her neck, making her hair stand on end. At any moment she expected someone to lean out of a window offering her free candy.

A sense of relief washed over Kirstin when she pushed open the seedy shop's door with her shoulder. The lights were flickering, and she realized it was lit by hundreds of candles. Some sat in sconces, others floated in the air, like a ghostly candlelight vigil at a satanic church.

Kirstin's relief turned to uneasiness. The store was far from the mom-and-pop potion haven she had been expecting. She saw cauldrons and barrels of potion ingredients, but she also saw human hands, shrunken heads, and jewels that glowed red. Kirstin decided to leave. Straying away from the main alley had been a mistake. If she hurried, Dan might not even notice she had wandered away.

The door closed softly behind her. She turned, expecting to see another hag. Instead, she faced a tall man and his son. Both strangers had dark, sleek hair, and pale skin. The man told his son to wait for him in a soft, firm voice and walked toward the counter.

Kirstin and the boy stared at each other for a moment. He appeared her age, but his eyes looked much older. They glinted dangerously in the candlelight, watching, calculating.

She realized she was staring, and decided to break the silence.

"Hi, I'm Kirstin. Are you going to Hogwarts this year also?" Even she was not convinced by her weak smile.

His eyes were unblinking. When she began to believe he would not respond, he spoke. "You're a mudblood, aren't you?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but his words were clear. His inflection was one of indifference. She could disappear and he would not care, or notice.

Kirstin's eyebrows furrowed. "What's a mudblood?"

"A muggle-born." He said simply.

Kirstin shrugged. "I guess I'm a mud-blood then."

His eyes flashed with momentary amusement.

She welcomed the sign of humanity. "You didn't tell me your name."

"Mathias Selwyn."

"Are you a Hogwarts student?"

"Yes, I will be a first year."

"Me too. I'm really excited. I just found out about it today. I still can hardly believe magic exists."

He remained silent.

She fidgeted. "Well, I'd better get going. It was nice meeting you." Kirstin moved to the door without waiting for an answer.

"And you."

She stopped, her hand on the door. She pivoted on one crutch, facing him again. "I guess we'll see each other at Hogwarts." Kirstin gave him her most winning smile, and turned toward the door.

He watched her over his shoulder, expressionless as she struggled to open the door.

Kirstin turned her attention back toward the front of the great hall as an ancient wizard stood to speak. He reminded her of Uncle Dan, eccentric with mirth twinkling in his eyes. But the white-bearded man's eyes also held deep knowledge; power radiated from him, telling her not to be deceived by his frail body. The rules of the school were delivered in an amiable voice, and Kirstin decided she liked the man. His speech ended with, "Dig in!"

On the empty tables appeared numberless dishes piled high with mashed potatoes, roast beef, bread, chicken, and many other dishes. Kirstin resolved to try a bit of everything. She looked at her plate, loaded with a dozen varieties of food. The food was as good, better even, than her mother's cooking. She wondered if the school cooks would teach her some of their techniques.

Many of her earliest memories took place in the kitchen beside her mother. While her mother chopped vegetables, she gave Kirsten a blunt table knife so the three-year-old could chop her own. In the time it took Kirsten to cut one potato her mother had all of the ingredients chopped, measured, and ready to cook.

The kitchen had become Kirstin's favorite part of the house since the accident. Her father had found a tall swivel chair with wheels so she could roll around the tiled floor while being able to comfortably use the countertops.

Although Kirsten was only eleven, she had cooked with her mother for years. Her mother had recently begun to let her cook on her own. At first, she had worried Kirsten might hurt herself, but after supervising her a few weeks, she relaxed. Kirsten knew it was because her mother wanted her daughter to have control over her own life.

The thought of always having meals cooked for her saddened Kirstin. Cooking had become a hobby she enjoyed and took pride in. No one could ever give her false praise for a dish; her taste buds did not lie to her. Preparing a new recipe well was gratifying; personalizing and improving it was exhilarating.

Kirstin ate her food slowly, savoring the taste and attempting to identify the spices used in each dish. Beside her, a boy with shaggy blond hair appeared to be trying to eat a turkey leg in three bites. The leg was held in his right fist, while his left hand reached toward a roll. The students seemed to be competing in an absurd, undeclared eating contest. Kirstin wondered how many hotdogs the blond boy could eat in a minute.

She sneaked a look across the room at Mathias. The sight of him eating small, slow bites of food surprised her; part of her expected him not to be eating at all.

He stopped eating, his fork halfway to his mouth, and stared forward as if sensing something. He turned and held Kirstin's gaze with unblinking eyes.

She blushed and whipped her head back toward her plate. Embarrassment rushed through her. He probably thought she had some sort of ridiculous crush on him now, or that she was stalking him.

After desert had been cleared the students were dismissed to their dorms. The prefects gathered the first-years around them and led them to the dormitories. Kirstin stayed at the back of the group and began to fall behind after they had climbed three staircases. The gap between her and the rest of the students widened. She struggled to keep them in sight. After the last first year disappeared around a corner, she quickened her pace, afraid she would get lost. Her arms were shaking when she ascended the fifth staircase. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when she rounded the corner. The prefect had stopped the group in front of a large painting of a heavy woman in pink silk.

"—can only get in with the password. For now it's dandelion." The self-important prefect said.

The picture swung forward to reveal a large hole; through which a cozy room decorated in rich reds and glowing gold could be seen. When Kirstin's feet rested on the plush carpet, warmth spread through her. It was the most beautiful room she had ever seen, and now it was her home. Overstuffed chairs sat next to the fire. A couch, coffee table, and armchairs dominated the center of the room. Pushed against the walls were small desks and tables.

After an information session, the first years were sent to bed. Kirstin fingered the velvet curtains that hung from her bed. If this was the kind of life kings had lived in their fortified castles, it was no mystery why everyone wanted to be royalty. When she had learned that Hogwarts was a boarding school, she had imagined cramped rooms with cinderblock walls and sparse furniture. Never had she imagined a school of such beauty and grandeur.

As her eyelids grew heavy, Kirstin felt the remaining anxiety melt away, replaced with eagerness for her new life.

The dream invaded Kirstin's sleep so often she no longer took part in it. Instead, she watched as Elise's face turned red from laughing. The dimples in her cheeks deepened as her smile widened.

Kirsten knew the younger version of herself sat beside Elise in the back seat of the car, making her laugh for the last time in her short life. Kirsten turned away and looked at the windshield between Elise's parents, waiting. The blinding headlights appeared seconds later. Then, the world went black.

Had she screamed in her sleep? She peered out the curtains surrounding her bed, but no one had stirred. The dim blue light from outside the diamond paned window made the room a land of shadows; filled with black outlines, missing the details that categorized the objects as dressers, beds, trunks, and pictures.

She had no pictures of Elise on her nightstand, or in her bedroom at home. They were unnecessary when she saw the poor girl with such clarity in her dreams.

The accident had occurred two years ago. No one else had survived. According to the emergency responders at the crash site, the remains of the car had been odd. The semi truck had smashed the car like a tin can; however, the area around her seat remained two feet longer than the rest of the car. The paramedics and doctors had called her "Miracle Girl", and many began attending church again.

She groped for her forearm crutches. Luck had not been completely on her side. The bones in her legs had been crushed. After five surgeries, the doctors said no more could be done.

_But it wasn't luck. _Kirstin reminded herself. She remembered when her uncle had said it was her magic that saved her.

Anger had welled up inside her. "If my magic was able to save me, why am I a cripple? And why can't it just make me better? Why can you do a bunch of magic tricks, but not fix my legs? Where were you two years ago?" She had said.

His face had filled with regret. "It didn't save your legs because the crash happened in an instant. Your magic was a reaction, one that you were unaware of. You didn't realize your life was in jeopardy until a split second after the semi hit the car. Less than a split second. However, when two objects collide at those speeds, it only takes a second for them to be destroyed."

She had seen the pity in his eyes. _Don't say it. Don't say it. _"I'm sorry." He said it. "I couldn't be sure you were a witch at the time. You can't just take a muggle into St. Mungo's—the hospital for wizards."

"Well then, why didn't you help me?"

"There are things I can't do. Mending bones—especially ones that have been shattered—is difficult at best. Healers have to be trained just like doctors do. I don't know if they could have even reset the bones properly."

Kirstin pushed away the memories, dwelling on her injuries always made her angry and irritable. In the month since learning about magic, she had trained herself not to hope magic could heal her. The disappointment would be devastating otherwise.

Like every other morning, she threw aside her blankets and swung her legs over the side of her bed. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her crutches tightly and threw her body into a standing position. Her feet were flat on ground, lightly touching the cold hardwood floor. She relished the difference in temperature between the soles of her feet and the rest of her body. Her nerves were intact.

Bending her elbows, she put extra weight on her legs until they were supporting more than her arms. Her legs trembled, but her arms, sore from journey to the dormitory, welcomed the break. She focused on her breathing, counting each slow, controlled breath. 40. Her legs ached. 50. She gritted her teeth. 60. She slumped back onto her bed. As with every other morning, she repeated the exercise four more times.

The other girls began to stir as Kirstin descended the stairs, freshly showered. She took her time as she traveled to the Great Hall. People began staggering bleary eyed into the hall after she finished breakfast. The witch who had called out names the night before sat a timetable in front of her.

Double potions was her first class. Kirstin smiled. Potions seemed similar to cooking. She pulled _Whering's Potions Encyclopedia, 126__th__ Edition _out of her book bag_. _Dan had seen her looking at the book in the bookstore and decided to buy it while she "got ice cream."

The book had small, cramped writing, and explained the use of different potions and the properties of hundreds of ingredients. It reminded Kirstin of her mother's cookbooks, except the contents were not appetizing in the slightest. She imagined herself at a fancy dinner party. "Oh no thank you, I'm simply too full to enjoy a toadstool and salamander tongue soufflé." She spent the rest of the time in the great hall imaging dishes made with potion ingredients. Tofu and boom slang stir fry, and crushed millipede cupcakes dusted with fairy dust were two of her favorites.

When the hall grew crowded, Kirstin stored her book and left for potions, following directions one of the older students from Slytherin had given her.

Kirstin choked back sobs. She had been searching half an hour for the potions room. Had she taken a wrong turn? No, she had followed every turn, descended every staircase the boy had told her to take. A sneaking suspicion tugged at the back of her mind. Was she purposely given the wrong directions? Why? Because she was crippled? Or was he just mean? He had seemed so sincere and helpful. Was he laughing right now, telling his friends about the trick he had played on some stupid first year?

She had long since stopped trying to figure out where she was, instead, taking any staircase, trying any door. Finally, Kirstin heard a voice behind one of the doors. Before opening the door, she concentrated on breathing, blinking back tears of frustration and embarrassment.

Holding her head high, she opened the door, entering a large room filled with tables with cauldrons on them and people staring at her. She closed the door quietly.

"Ms. Cooper, how nice of you to grace us with your presence." The tall man writing on the chalkboard said before turning. He stared at her with menacing black eyes. He looked at her legs and arm crutches and back at her eyes. Only a slight twitch of his right eyebrow betrayed surprise. His eyes bore into her soul.

She held his eyes for a few moments, before lowering them and sitting in the closest chair. She took off her backpack and set her writing supplies on the table as quickly as possible. She looked at the board; they were covering shrinking potions. Kirstin had already read the first couple of chapters in their potions book, so she already knew why and how it worked.

"You will have one hour to make the potion. When and if you finish, pour your potion into a glass vial and leave it on the desk at the front of the room." The professor surveyed the room, and said in a dry, bored tone, "Don't burn down the building or melt any cauldrons."

The girl with chocolate brown hair sitting in front of Kirstin turned to her and whispered sympathetically, "I'll get your ingredients." She hurried away before Kirstin could protest.

Kirstin flipped her textbook open to the page with directions for the shrinking potion. She lit a small fire under the cauldron beside her, mindful to keep the flames blue, not yellow.

The girl dumped the ingredients on her table with a quick smile. "Good luck!"

Kirstin smiled, they would get along well. "Thank you."

The next fifteen minutes were spent chopping and measuring the ingredients, and putting them in bowls. She took care to slice the newt tongue into even strips, and grind the beetle eyes to a consistent texture, with no lumps.

Kirstin looked around the room. All the other students were in pairs. One student would frantically chop while the other added ingredients. Kirstin shook her head. Using that method guaranteed some ingredients would overcook while others were being prepared.

As she lined her bowls in the order that she would dump them into the cauldron, a shadow fell across her table. Professor Snape stood over her, watching her work. Goosebumps rose on Kirstin's arms, but she pretended not to notice him.

The water had heated to a rolling boil. She sprinkled the beetle eye powder slowly, so it would not clump. Kirstin had once made the mistake of pouring half a cup of flour into a sauce all at once, making it grainy and disgusting. No doubt the beetle powder had a different function than just thickening, but she wanted to ensure it would not clump.

After a minute of steady stirring, the potion turned the light purple color the book said it would. Each ingredient turned the potion a different hue. Ten minutes later, Kirstin brought down the flames, making them yellow. The lilac colored liquid simmered.

Kirstin looked around the room. Cauldrons contained lumpy yellow contents, green sludge, and smoking brown solids. The brown haired girl's cauldron was filled with light green liquid and billowed acrid smoke. Kirstin guessed she had let the dragonweed cook too long. The dragonweed turned Kirstin's potion from blue to teal in less than a minute.

She pulled out her potions encyclopedia. The articles on ingredients nearly always listed their opposites, which in this case was copper. How could she mix copper in? Then it occurred to her; the copper did not need to stay in the potion, it just needed to tone down the dragonweed. Kirstin did not know where she could find copper. She began fiddling with the contents of her pockets while she thought. Her fingers were turning the muggle change she had left in them. Pennies! They were copper plated! She had never been so happy that Britain still used decimal coins.

Kirstin took the change out of her pocket with her right hand and grabbed one of her crutches with her other hand. She stood beside the table in front of her. The girl looked up at her, face flushed from embarrassment, frustration, and heat.

"The potion turned green because the dragonweed cooked too long. Copper negates it." She put three pennies in the girl's hand. "Put them in your cauldron until it turns lilac, then fish them out. It should work."

The girl's hazel eyes looked hopeful. "Thank you." She whispered back.

Kirstin turned back toward her table and froze. The professor stared at her from behind greasy locks of hair. She continued toward her seat, one hand on the table, the other using her crutch. She sat and killed the fire beneath her cauldron. Careful not to spill any on her hand, she poured some of the potion in a small glass vial and corked it.

A pale, long-fingered hand reached over her shoulder, taking the container from her hand. "See me after class." His breath tickled the hair on the back of Kirstin's neck.

A pit of dread filled her stomach. Was she in trouble because she was late to class, or had she angered him by helping the student in front of her? She glanced up at the girl, who dropped the last penny on the desk beside the cauldron. When the potion was put in a vial, Kirstin knew it was not perfect, but at least it was purple. Even if she did get in trouble for helping the girl, Kirstin was glad she did.

Ten minutes later, the students shuffled out of the classroom. The girl stopped next to Kirstin's desk. "Do you want to walk with me to lunch?"

Kirstin smiled up at her. "I have to stay here a few extra minutes, so just go ahead and save me a seat."

The girl looked over her shoulder at where Professor Snape sat at his desk with guilt and put Kirstin's pennies on the desk in front of her. She mouthed an apology to her. "Thank you."

Kirstin waved it away. "No problem. I'll see you up there."

The girl hurried out the door.

"Ms. Cooper." Professor Snape gave the chair in front of his desk a pointed stare.

Kirstin moved toward the chair with reluctance. She sat and looked down at her hands, unwilling to meet his icy black eyes. Silence pressed down on her, heavy and smothering. Kirstin could not stand it any longer. "I'm sorry I was late, I left the Great Hall half an hour early, but the directions the Slytherin boy gave me weren't right. I followed them exactly, but I couldn't find the room. I "

"I expect you won't make that mistake again." His voice was cold and quiet, but not angry. Kirstin looked up at him, surprised and relieved. He seemed to be examining her, an interesting specimen. "You have an aptitude for potions rarely shown in students, especially impulsive and careless Gryffindors. The potion was perfect. The approach you took was methodical and meticulous. Students never prepare all of their ingredients before brewing."

Kirstin glowed inwardly with pride. "Well, I figure it's really similar to cooking. Mise En Place is the most basic cooking principle. 'Everything in its place', that way nothing overcooks because you're chopping something else."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. However, the trick with the penny went beyond cooking fundamentals. Problem solving is a key aspect to brewing successful potions, which you have innately. You also seem to understand the subtleties of potions, something which is rarely learned."

Kirstin flushed. "So, you're not mad at me for helping her?"

"I suggest next time you partner with her."

Kirstin understood. He was not pleased she had helped the girl get a grade she didn't actually deserve, but he did not blame her for wanting to help. She nodded.

"I would encourage you to consider a career in potions." He picked up his quill, signaling the meeting was over.

She stood and turned to leave, her mind swimming.

"And, Ms. Cooper," Kirstin stopped in front of the door and looked back where he sat at his desk, examining a paper he was grading. "Ten points to Gryffindor." She thought she heard him mutter, "That's the first time I've ever said that."

The brown haired girl jumped when Kirstin sat beside her with a loud _thump._ Her hazel eyes widened. "I'm so sorry you got in trouble. You didn't have to help me. Really, you should have just let me fail."

Kirstin pretended to glare at her. "And what? Not have gotten ten points for our house?"

The food on the girl's fork fell on the table with a splat. She wiped it up with inattentive strokes of her napkin, eyes glued to Kirstin's face. "Are you kidding me? Snape _never _gives points to Gryffindor. First of all because he hates us, and secondly because he's the head of Slytherin. What did he say?"

Kirstin shrugged. "Well, he basically called Gryffindors stupid, to begin with. Then he told me I was good at problem solving and understanding potions. He said I should do something with potions when I grow up."

The girl's plump, pink lips were parted in amazement. "So he didn't get mad at you?"

Kirstin gave her a crooked smile. "Next time we should be partners."

The girl raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "Wow. He must really like you. Anybody else, and he would have jumped down their throat. My brother says that he takes points away from Gryffindor for no reason."

"So, are you not a mudblood?" Kirstin tried to sound casual, as if she used the word all the time.

The girl froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. The area around them quieted; people glared at Kristin with revulsion, before turning away in dismissal. Kirstin's cheeks grew warm, bewildered yet still embarrassed; she wondered what she had just said.

The girl put her fork down carefully, leaving the food on it. "Do you know what that word means?"

"I was told by one of the other students that it meant someone was muggle born. I didn't know it was a bad word. Honest." Kirstin shot a glance toward the Slytherin table, looking for Mathias, who was not there. The revelation of the word's definition put his interaction with her in a different light. He had hardly spoken to her because of his perceived superiority, not because he was mysterious and quiet. Amusement had shown on his face because she had insulted herself! The reaction was not because he had liked her at all; she had looked stupid and validated his belief.

She clenched her jaw in anger and speared a piece of chicken with more force than necessary. Refusing to look at the pretty girl sitting next to her, she saw only the fork and knife that were sawing the meat into chunks.

"Hey, it's okay. You didn't know what it meant. And no, both of my parents are magical. I'm Elle, by the way. Elle Piper. I can tell you're definitely muggle-born. What's your name, Ginger?" She gave a lock of Kirstin's copper hair a playful yank.

Kirstin smiled in spite of herself. "Kirstin Cooper."

Elle's hazel eyes glittered with mischief. "Kirstin Copper? You seem to have a thing for copper. That how you knew to use the pennies?"

"Cooper."

"I'm calling you copper."

Kirstin gave a rueful chuckle. "Maybe I shouldn't have helped you."

Elle gave a sage nod. "We have to make mistakes so we can learn from them. I can already see you won't make that mistake twice."

Kirstin heaved a dramatic sigh. "Yes. It's too late now. Look what I've done."

Elle's laugh was rich and throaty. "I think we'll get along well."

Please review, so I can better my writing. Thank you, and stay tuned for new chapters!


	2. Dinner Time

Chapter Two

Dinner Time

Sorry for the wait folks! I wasn't sure if I would continue the story, but I think I will.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world. I don't even own my world.

* * *

The novelty of Hogwarts surrounded Kirstin, a rich exotic world of surprises. Above the heads of the dining children, clouds moved and casted shadows and changing shapes. Fires forever burned in the sconces adorning the walls. Food appeared on tables by magic, though then the students soon made it disappear in a more typical fashion.

Owls flew overhead, carrying envelopes and small parcels, and landed in front of the intended recipients, before flying away again, white and grey against a blue summer sky. Watching the owls soar out of the room, Kirstin grew wings and swept away from the world below, abandoning her crutches. Only clouds before her; she was the master of the sky.

The clatter of a dropped fork brought Kirstin down to the ground again. She leaned toward Elle. "Can people transform themselves into animals?"

Elle held up a finger, signaling she would talk after chewing her mouthful of muffin. "Yeah. Not very many people can do it though, you have to be pretty powerful."

"So you could just change into any animal you wanted." Kirstin said with wonder.

Elle shook her head. "No, it doesn't work like that. Those people are called animagus, and they can only change into one animal. It's like they have an animal version of themselves, and that's what they can turn into."

Kirstin looked down at her plate in disappointment. "I wonder what I would be."

"Probably a cockroach." Elle's voice sounded earnest.

"Hey!"

"Or a sewer rat." Elle said as though it made perfect sense.

Kirstin rolled her eyes with a grin. "Whatever. You would probably be a slug."

Elle held her head high and stuck her pinky out as she sipped her pumpkin juice. "Well, the French would love me then."

"Or a big, fat cow."

Elle put her goblet down and raised her eyebrows at Kirstin with a superior air. "My utters would be so much bigger than yours."

Kirstin choked on her egg. She was still coughing when they entered Transfiguration.

The two girls sat at their table taking out their books, quills, and parchment. Slytherins and Gryffindors continued filing into the room, sitting at opposite sides of the middle aisle.

Elle leaned toward Kirstin and muttered, "Why do we have to start every day with Slytherins?"

Kirstin peered over her shoulder at the back of the room where Mathias sat, silent and oblivious to the boy beside him. He was a statue; his eyes staring ahead, dark chocolate hair parted to one side, swooping across the top of his forehead. She looked for arrogance, for the prejudice he had shown toward her, but she could not see it. A perfect representation of a human, his face held no characteristics of life.

Kirstin turned back toward the front of the room. A tabby cat had slinked in and jumped onto the teacher's desk. While Mathias' face had lacked animation, the cat's seemed too intense, almost human.

The hands on Kirstin's watch moved closer to class time. She wondered if the teacher was going to be late. The second hand ticked. Ten, nine, eight, seven…Kirstin glanced up at the cat. One. It leaped toward the floor, its legs elongating, and the tail disappeared. Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the room.

The breath caught in Kirstin's throat. An animagus. McGonagall launched into the lecture, preventing Kirstin from dwelling on the cat-form. After taking copious notes over the theory of basic transfiguration, matchboxes appeared in front of each student. The goal of the class period was to turn a match into a needle.

Kirstin pointed her wand at the match and closed her eyes. Visions of growing wings and flying filled her head. Maybe someday she would fly and leave her legs behind. She returned her concentration to her task, envisioning the match become shiny and pointy. When she whispered the incantation, she thought of only the transformation.

"Well done, Ms. Cooper. Five points to Gryffindor for succeeding first, and on your first try I might add."

Kirstin jumped at the sound, her eyes snapped open. McGonagall towered over her, a look of approval on her lined face. Before Kirstin was a flawless needle. The Gryffindors behind her started clapping and hooting. She looked over her shoulder at them and her eyes lingered on Mathias. He was shifting his match into a needle and back while the attention was elsewhere. His eyes darted around the room, afraid another student saw his success. Fear flashed across his face when he saw Kirstin's gaze before returning to stone.

Elle uttered a soft exclamation of victory. Unsettled and confused, Kirstin turned back toward the front of the room. They spent remainder of the class listening to frustrated grunts and forceful incantations. Elle and Kirstin filled their matchbox with multicolored needles. They left the classroom telling each other of their plans to turn all the Slytherins' quills into daggers ("They can write with blood." Elle said.)

Kirstin's stomach growled, causing her to sit up, her head leaving her hand's cradle for the first time in an hour. She imagined her neck creaked when she rolled her head in a circle. The lack of light streaming from the library window made her scramble for her crutches. Dinner might be over. She left the book open on the table and hoisted her heavy backpack onto her shoulders.

_Set, swing, set, swing. _The rhythm was urgent. Two floors down she began to pant. Sweat dampened her brow when she rushed into the Great Hall.

The food smelled amazing. Dinner was…gone. Kirstin groaned in frustration. Elle waved her over. She took her time, tired from the sprint through the castle. At the bench, she collapsed in a heap.

"You were at the library that whole time?" Elle said, concerned. "I figured you had already eaten or something. If I had known, I would have saved you a plate. I'm sorry." She pushed a slice of dark chocolate cake in front of the tired girl. "Here, eat this, it's really good."

Kirstin put her hand over her left bicep to stop the muscle's twitching. Between breaths, she managed a small smile for the sake of her friend. "Well," she said after tasting the rich cake, "I bet if I hustled like that every day I could eat a whole platter of this and not get fat."

When the plate was devoid of any chocolate crumbs, Kirstin pushed the plate away. Her elbows rested on the table, and her hands covered her ears, cupping her head. The distorted conversations reminded her of a trickling stream attempting to lull her to sleep. A light shake from Elle woke her.

"Hey, I have some homework to finish, do you want to go back to the library with me?" Elle's hazel eyes were warm and inviting, but Kirstin dreaded going up the stairs again.

"No thanks. I think I want to go outside for a bit." Elle looked up at the ceiling, tinted orange, promising a vibrant sunset. Longing stretched across her face.

"Okay, tomorrow we should take a walk together and catch the sunset by the lake." Elle stood, swinging her bag onto her shoulder, and swept her gleaming hair from beneath one of the straps. Another quick glance at the ceiling told Kirstin how much the willowy girl wished to join her.

"We will definitely go out by the lake tomorrow. We should pack some food from dinner and have a picnic."

A broad smile lit Elle's face in genuine excitement. "It's a deal." She gave Kirstin a wave and started to walk away. After a few steps she stopped and turned toward her friend with a worried expression on her face. She shook her head, dismissing a thought, and walked away.

Kirstin sat a few more minutes before leaving the hall. Something white fluttered by her ear upon reaching the giant oak doors. An origami crane floated onto her shoulder, like a real bird landing on a sparkling mere for the night. Kirstin unfolded it, revealing a message written in precise, slanted cursive. "Kitchens: Directly below Great Hall. Tickle the pear."

She scanned the area around her for the sender, but found no one. Her eyebrows furrowed; was it another Slytherin trick? However, on her first day she had seen a painting of fruit immediately after descending the staircase the older boy had directed her to.

The snarling of her stomach made the decision for her. She warily descended the stone steps.

The pear giggled at her touch, and a green handle appeared. Warm light and the smell of an Easter dinner filled the hallway when the painting swung open. Workers bustled in the kitchen. Kirstin squeaked in surprise when she saw their faces, which all turned toward her in excitement. The small creatures had large bat ears and long pointed faces. Their bulbous eyes shone with admiration.

Kirstin resisted the urge to recoil when the nearest worker put her large hand on her back, leading her toward a table.

"You must sit! Would Miss like tea? Is Miss hungry?" The diminutive creature piped, eager to please.

"Actually, I am really hungry, but I don't want to trouble you any. I can just get it myself."

The ugly creature looked horrified. "No. Miss must not do anything! Silvy will feed you. House elves must take care of their masters." The house elf—whom Kirstin decided was a girl because of her name and mop of long hair—hurried toward the stoves before she could protest.

Other elves served her tea while Silvy prepared her food. Kirstin murmured thanks to each one, embarrassed at being doted on, yet too tired to argue. She also feared offending them by turning away their service. Shock appeared on the elves' faces every time she thanked them, which was soon replaced with a happy smile. An eager fire shone in their eyes as they competed amongst each other to please Kirstin the most. She had to turn them all away when she began to feel suffocated.

A steaming cup of creamy potato soup was set in front of her, soon followed by a small Cornish hen stuffed with bacon and rice. It was the best food Kirstin had ever tasted. She had to remind herself of her manners as she slurped spoonfuls of soup. Halfway through her hen she leaned back into her chair and gave a contented sigh.

"Silvy, that food was amazing. Where did you learn to cook like that?" Kirstin leaned forward continued to pick pieces off the hen and chew them slowly.

The elf cocked her head to the side in confusion. "House elves live to cook and clean for humans, that is all we do."

Kirstin frowned. "So, do you get paid?"

Silvy gasped. "Of course not! Elves should not get paid, it is an honor to serve our masters." She gave a small bow to the red haired girl.

Kirstin's blue eyes narrowed, she put down her fork with the sliver of chicken on it. "So you're slaves." She was disgusted the school held slaves, even if the elves were brainwashed.

The elves looked happy, but Kirstin wondered if they would still feel that way if they were given a taste of freedom. She doubted they would accept any freedom, even a day off.

"Silvy, can you help me?" She asked, feigning distress.

Her eyes widened and she bowed her head. "Anything, Miss."

"One of my favorite things to do is cooking, but since I've come to school, I haven't been able to cook. The food you make is delicious. I wish I could cook like that. Will you teach me?" She leaned down; her eyes level with the Silvy's glowing green orbs. "Please?"

The elf quaked. "Miss does not wish Silvy to cook for her?"

Kirstin shook her head vehemently. "That's not it at all. Cooking just makes me happy, but you're so good at cooking, that I don't think I could settle for the type of food that I am able to make. If you helped me, I would be so grateful." Flattery dripped from her voice.

A debate between basic house elf morals and the need to please Kirstin raged in Silvy's green eyes. Humans were not supposed to do anything for themselves, yet if she did not let the girl cook, she would displease her. Kirstin's blue puppy dog eyes must have been the deciding factor.

Silvy slumped. "Silvy will teach Miss." She looked down at Kirstin's feet.

After discussing Kirstin's schedule, they agreed to have lessons on weekends. Kirstin was not sure how she would open the house elf's mind, but she was content to let their relationship evolve before making any plans.

When Kirstin left the kitchen the house elves massed before the door and waved at her as if she was a celebrity. The painting swing closed and all sounds of tinkering dishes and running water disappeared. Kirstin put her ear against the apple, but it was met with silence. The hallway felt dead after spending so long around the bustling house elves.

On the way to her dorm the rhythm of Kirstin's forearm crutches was more energetic and carefree than when she had walked toward the kitchen. As she rounded a corner voices reached her ears and she slowed. At the end of the hall, a large group of Slytherins swaggered toward her, filling the corridor. Kirstin moved toward the cold stones of the wall to her right. There were eight of them and the hall was plenty wide for all them to pass by the small girl.

They grew nearer, but the boy in front of Kirstin did not move to the side. He was a foot in front of her when she looked down at his feet and mumbled, "Excuse me." She waited for the feet to move. After a few seconds, she looked up, wondering if he had heard her.

The sandy haired boy looked down at her. He was a head taller than her. The skin on his forehead bubbled with acne. He looked to be a third year, just starting puberty. Mud brown eyes glittered with malice, never leaving her face as he leaned toward the boy next to him. "Looks like Legs here is lost. Maybe we should help her, Avery."

Avery nodded his head; his black slicked-back hair unmoving. Narrow grey eyes examined her, a cat watching its prey. He was shorter, stockier, and more powerful than the Pimples—as she had dubbed the gangly boy with sandy hair.

Kirstin glanced at the rest of the Slytherins, all boys. They curved around her in a semi-circle, lions cornering a mouse in their den. Her heart hammered against her ribs. They wanted fear but she would not give them the satisfaction; she slipped a blank mask onto her face. "Thank you so much for your help, but I actually do know where I am. I was just heading back up stairs. Have a nice night" She moved to slip between the wall and Pimples.

Midway through swinging her body forward, her left crutch skidded backward. Over the years she had learned to immediately let go of the crutch, so it would not jerk her arm back and hurt her shoulder. She tried to balance her weight on her legs and her remaining crutch, but she was too unbalanced and her legs buckled beneath her, unprepared. Falling forward, she put both hands in front of her. The hall rang with the metallic clatter of the crutches hitting the ground and her knees hit the floor, followed by her arms.

Pimples grabbed her crutches and held one out to her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me help you."

Kirstin stared at the crutch and the boy's ugly face, which he was trying to make look sincere. She was not going to play his game.

"Come on, don't be such a git. I'm trying to help you." He said, looking hurt.

Kirstin continued to stare at his face, trying to bore her eyes into him as only Snape could do.

He began to look uncomfortable. The crutch lowered and he tossed it to Avery. "Obviously she doesn't want it. She probably doesn't even need it." He turned toward the group. "We should go. I know when we're not wanted." He said in a haughty voice. As they walked away, he scraped the crutch against the wall. Before turning the corner, he looked over his shoulder at Kirstin, his thin lips curling in a sneer.

Kirstin had two options: yell for help or scoot up to the next floor where there were more people. If she yelled, the boys would hear her. She refused to give them that satisfaction. The stairs were not far; she could make it to the next floor.

Kirstin maneuvered her back toward the stairwell and began to scoot backward with her arms. Her crippled legs helped push her, but they were little use. At each landing she rested, her triceps protesting.

Sweat dampened her forehead when she reached the ground level of the castle. It was deserted. Few candles burned, leaving the hallways dim. Frustration formed into a lump in her throat. She swallowed and blinked back her eyes. The common room was on the fifth story, halfway across the castle.

Kirstin would have to call for help. She took a deep breath. "Hello?" No one answered, nothing moved. "Hello? I need help!" Nothing. "HELP! Please?"

She continued to yell as she scooted, but no answer ever came. When her voice was hoarse, she gave up. Her arms were shaking and she feared she was starting to wear a hole through her skirt. At an alcove, she curled into a ball and used her cloak as a blanket.

The night was full of fitful dreams of burning food and whack-a-Pimple, but the ugly boy kept dodging her hammer before she could hit him. She awoke to the smell of cat litter.

Kirstin opened her eyes. A pair of yellow cat eyes stared into hers. The cat was gray and brown. It looked as if it had mange. It was the ugliest cat she had ever seen. "Um, hi." She felt stupid talking to a cat. "Can you find help for me?"

The cat blinked and trotted away. Kirstin hoped it was going to find someone.

* * *

What did you think? Did you like it? If so what did you like? (I can give you more of it!) Give me some love; give me some comments! Thanks to those who reviewed, I really appreciate it. The people who favorited this story are my favorites!


	3. To Kill a Mangy Cat

**Chapter 3**

**To Kill a Mangy Cat**

**Disclaimer: Do I look like a genius? Of course the Harry Potter world isn't mine. I do, however, have the honor of claiming all the original characters and the storyline.**

"Student out of bed!" A disheveled man panted as he ran down the corridor. His thin lips were curled back in a malicious smile, showing crooked yellow teeth.

Kirstin glared at the cat. _This is who you brought back?_ If her legs had worked, she would have been tempted to give that molting rug a good kick. She looked up at the old man standing over her. "I'm so sorry. Let me explain," she used her most charming voice. "A bunch of boys stole my forearm crutches. I tried calling for help, but no one heard me. I couldn't scoot all the way to the dorm."

The man paid her no attention and picked up the cat. "Good girl Mrs. Norris. Catching all those naughty students." He stroked the cat with affection bordering on bestiality. "We'll have fun in detention, oh yes we will. Good girl."

Kirstin imagined the yowl the cat would make when she threw it out one of the tower windows.

"But I didn't do anything wrong." She said.

"Don't lie to me! Do you think I'm a moron?" He snarled and stomped down the hallway behind her. "If they stole them, why are they right here?" He brandished one of the crutches leaning against the wall.

Confusion clouded Kirstin's mind. How had they gotten there? Had someone confiscated them, Snape maybe? If he had, he would have woken her. She wondered if one of the Slytherins had put them there to get her in trouble. The man was seething. "I don't know how they got there. Some Slytherin boys stole them from me last night."

Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Professor McGonagall appeared; her lips were taut and thin like a tightrope. She looked at Kirstin on the ground and the crutches in the man's bony hands. "Mr. Filch, what is the meaning of this?"

He nodded his head in what resembled a bow. "I found her sleeping in the hallway. She tried giving me a story about her crutches being stolen, but they were leaning against the wall down the hallway." His drooping eyes narrowed at Kirstin. "Liars should get extra detentions."

Kirstin shook her head and looked up at her head of house with pleading eyes. "But I wasn't lying. If I were, I wouldn't have left my crutches in the hallway."

McGonagall arched a thin eyebrow. "If they were stolen, why, pray tell, were they in the hallway at all?"

" I don't know! I ran into a bunch of Slytherin boys last night and they took them from me." She was not convincing her. Kirstin scrambled to give evidence. "Avery! One of the boys was Avery. And there was another one. I don't know his name, but he had blondish hair and lots of acne." She rolled onto her stomach and pointed to her dirty skirt. "I had to scoot on my butt because no one was around to help me."

McGonagall continued to stare at her, waiting for any hint as to whether the girl was lying. She pursed her lips and sighed. "Mr. Filch, give Miss Cooper her crutches back." She turned back toward Kristin. "This goes against my better judgment, but I am going to trust you Miss Cooper. However, do not expect leniency a second time."

Filch let out an indignant yelp. "She was clearly out of bed past hours. At this rate students will start having parties and blatantly disregarding curfew."

McGonagall gave him a steely glare. "Thank you, Mr. Filch. You may return to your other duties."

Relief washed over Kirstin. She watched the bitter old man throw down her crutches and shuffle down the hallway.

She turned back toward Professor McGonagall. "Thank you Professor. I promise I wasn't lying."

She nodded. "I expect you weren't. I will speak to Professor Snape about the incident. Now, I believe you need to prepare for your day, Miss Cooper."

"Thank you." Kirstin reached for her crutches and brought herself to her feet. The rhythm of her gait was comforting; her crutches felt like an old friend.

Elle rushed toward the table Kirstin sat at in the potion room; her already round eyes were nearly full circles. She threw her bag on the ground and sat beside her exhausted friend. "Where were you? I waited up for you, but you never came in. I looked for you in the hallways, but it was close to curfew and I didn't see you." She stopped for a breath and looked at the bags under Kirstin's eyes. "Are you alright? I was really worried. I was starting to think you might have fallen or something." Her dark eyebrows furrowed and she fixed a strand of Kirstin's copper hair that stuck out.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Tired though. My crutches got stolen. I had to sleep in the hallway."

"You're kidding me!"

Kirstin sighed and shook her head. "No. A bunch of Slytherins stole them. Filch found me in the morning. He wanted to give me detention, but McGonagall didn't let him."

Elle was indignant. "How could he give you a detention? Your crutches were gone, it clearly wasn't your fault." She gesticulated violently with her hands.

Kirstin leaned forward, life sparking in her eyes. "That's the thing. When I woke up in the morning, the crutches were there again. Someone must have returned them, because none of the professors knew what happened. So, it looked like I was lying. Thankfully McGonagall believed me."

Elle grew thoughtful. "Huh. I wonder who did it. It had to have been a Slytherin, otherwise someone would have helped you."

Kirstin moved closer to Elle and dropped her voice to a whisper. "That's what I was thinking. Someone didn't want anyone to know what he was doing."

"He?" Elle's eyes narrowed. "Do you know who did it?"

Kirstin watched the train of Slytherins enter the classroom. "I think I might." The Slytherins looked disgruntled. "What's up with them?" She asked Elle.

Elle's plump lips curved in a smirk; she gave a low chuckle. "Oh, they just lost twenty points. I wonder why?"

Snape swept into the room, his black cloak billowing behind him like a dark storm front, bringing chilled air and anxious silence. "Today we will be making shrinking potions." He turned on his heel and began writing instructions and the theory behind the potion on the board in his cramped cursive.

After the conclusion of the lecture, Kirstin adjusted the height of the flame beneath their cauldron, and Elle gathered the ingredients. Elle crushed the beetle eyes while Kirstin minced the dittany. Kirstin put the dittany in a bowl and reached for the wormwood. She held it over a bowl and attempted to squeeze the juice out. Milky fluid dripped into the bowl. Kirstin squeezed harder, the potion called for far more wormwood fluid than she was getting.

"Slit it lengthwise three times to extract more."

Kirstin jumped and nearly dropped the wormwood into the bubbling potion. She looked over her shoulder, where Snape stood with his hands behind his back, surveying her work. She nodded and slit the plant three times, each an equal distance apart. When she squeezed, liquid trickled out. She turned to thank him, but he was no longer behind her.

Half an hour later, their potion was perfect and shimmered silver. Elle leaned over their cauldron, watching it bubble. "It's so pretty. I wish I had a dress that color." A thought struck her; she grinned and looked at Kirstin, "Or eyes that color. What do you think?" Her eyes batted and she gave an exaggerated come-hither look over her lashes.

Kirstin imagined her with glowing silver eyes and the same ridiculous facial expression. She snorted. "Maybe just stick with the dress."

Elle stuck her nose in the air and swung her hair over her shoulder as she turned away. "You obviously know nothing about true beauty."

"Why don't you get your beautiful butt to the supply closet and put the ingredients away. I'll take our vial up." Kirstin poured the potion into the glass and stopped it with a piece of cork.

Elle gathered the ingredients and then looked back at her butt while leaning over the table. "It is rather beautiful, isn't it?"

They both laughed quietly, and Kirstin rolled her eyes. "Amazing."

The mischievous girl grinned and said, "Oh, I know."

"Wow." Kirstin muttered and stood, holding the vial between her fingers on her right hand and the handle of her crutch in her palm.

Elle gave her the same worried look she gave in the Great Hall. "Maybe I should take the vial up."

"Why?"

Elle furrowed her eyebrows, thinking. "I don't know. I just feel like you shouldn't take it up." She shook her head at her stupidity. "Never mind, I'm just being weird." She took the ingredients to the closet.

Kirstin moved toward the front of the room, bewildered by her friend's actions. Did she think she would drop the potion? Or maybe she was worried about her tripping. Kirstin shrugged it off.

Liquid splashed her right hand and sudden white-hot pain seared through her arm. She impulsively let go of her crutch and her legs started to buckle. As she fell she grabbed at the table, knocking over the cauldron. Gray liquid ran over the edge of the table onto her back. The liquid felt like a thousand knives stabbing her. Screaming, she rolled out from under the acid waterfall. The skin on her hand was a shiny, angry red. She struggled to remove her wet cloak without touching it.

In the background, Kirstin heard Snape interrogating the freckled boy at the table. "I accidently dropped the ladle. I didn't mean to hurt her," the boy whimpered.

"If you were not incompetent, the potion would not have hurt her." Snape hissed.

"Kirstin, are you alright?" Elle was by her side, afraid to touch her. "Oh Merlin."

"Out of the way Ms. Piper." Snape conjured a stretcher and levitated Kirstin onto it. When her back rested on the white canvas she bit back a scream. Snape turned toward Elle. "Gather her affects, she will spend the night in the hospital wing."

Elle gave Kirstin one last wide eyed glance and nodded, scooping up both of their backpacks and jogging out the door.

The stretcher floated beside the professor. The trip to the hospital wing seemed to last an eternity. After many operations she had learned to handle pain, but this was a different pain, sharp and unrelenting. Her breathing was explosive and irregular as she held her breath and tensed her body to battle the agony.

Kirstin's eyes were closed when they entered the white wing. Quick, gentle hands began administering to her. She opened her eyes and saw Madame Pomfrey rubbing potions on her arms, which relieved the burning. She levitated Kirstin out of the stretcher and gently laid her facedown on the bed. The healer drew the curtain and removed what was left of Kirstin's white Oxford shirt. The potion had eaten holes in it.

Snape was still standing in the room when Madame Pomfrey opened the curtain and left Kirstin in the bed with her torso wrapped in bandages. They murmured to each other and the healer went into her office. Snape sat on the spindly chair beside her bed.

For the first time, Kirstin examined him closely and was surprised at his youth. He was in his mid twenties, but his cynical demeanor aged him. He stared at the wall on the other side of the bed. His face was pale, his nose was hooked, and his hair stringy. Overall, the face was not one of beauty, but it had an intensity Kirstin found intriguing.

She broke the silence. "Thank you for bringing me up here."

He nodded.

Kirstin tried to make conversation again, she was curious about this man, what made him tick. "What did that boy do to the potion to make it so acidic?"

He gave an exasperated sigh. "The boy put more wormwood into the potion than called for. Most likely the wormwood was chopped instead of juiced."

She blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. "But the instructions said juice, not chop. How can you mess that up?"

The professor looked down at her with a cynical half smile. "The acts of idiocy students are capable of are astounding."

Kirstin wanted to say something to make him laugh. "Well, I haven't died yet today, so I guess it's been a pretty good day."

He returned his gaze to the wall.

"Why don't you like Gryffindors?" She cringed; that question was too blunt and intrusive.

His eyes were hard and black when they met hers, but she refused to look away, to blink. "That is none of your concern."

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to pry. I was just wondering why you don't like Gryffindors, yet you like me."

She looked down at her hands and tried to think of ways to fix her error. "You must be really good at potions to be teaching here. All the other professors are a lot older than you."

The softening of his eyes was infinitesimal, but Kirstin saw it; she had cracked his mask. "Not many people see the beauty of potions. To be able cure, destroy, shape without ever touching a wand is a powerful tool."

Kirstin gave her sweetest smile. "Plus you probably end up becoming a pretty awesome cook." She tossed her red hair over her shoulder and eyed her nails. "I bet my French onion soup is better than yours though."

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth and he looked at her sleek hair glowing like a fire in the morning light from the window.

The door opened with a bang. Two Hufflepuff students hurried into the wing supporting a limping boy.

Madame Pomfrey turned to them. "Falling off your broom again Mr. Finnis? Let's take a look at that leg." He sat on a bed and she rolled up his trouser, touching his leg in various places. "Feels like it's broken. _Fibula Emendo._" She waved her wand airily and rolled down his pants. "You should be fine to go."

The gangly blonde boy rolled his ankle a few times and stood to test his leg. He thanked the healer and walked out of the room with slow, cautious movements.

An insatiable hunger rose in Kirstin. "You can heal fractures?" She asked Madame Pomfrey in a desperate voice.

The healer gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid there is nothing I can do about your legs." She sat on the end of the bed and patted Kirstin's ankle. "Your bones have already repaired themselves. Even before they set, the damage would have been far too great to completely heal."

Kirstin looked at the potions master. "Are there any potions that could help me?" For years she had accepted the knowledge that her wounds could not heal, but this place of magic had given her hope once more.

Deep black eyes stared at her; his face betrayed no expression. "No. There are no potions that could help."

Kirstin nodded, she had guessed so, but tenacity would not let her yield. She puzzled the question out loud. "Magic can't fix my legs because they've healed. There are no potions. It's nearly impossible to break bones in the same place twice." She turned to Pomfrey with hungry eyes. "What if we got rid of the bones? We could regrow them!"

Madame Pomfrey looked at Snape with caution. "Dissolving the bones would be simple enough, but I know of nothing that can regenerate bones."

Snape said nothing.

Kirstin knew what his silence meant, but she refused to give up. "Just because there isn't anything for it doesn't mean it isn't possible." Tears welled in her eyes and her face was hot. Magic surrounded her in this new world and the thought of putting limits on magic was oxymoronic.

A brilliant potions master sat beside her and she turned to him. "Please." She hated how her voice cracked, how she sat leaning forward, the blankets clenched between her fingers.

The young professor bore his obsidian eyes into hers, pure and blue. A sallow mask hid his emotions. He leaned back in his chair and put his elbows on the thin wooden armrests. Long fingers touched and formed a temple over which he continued to stare at her.

Kirstin refused to look away, and through her firm gaze willed him to help her.

He blinked. And blinked again. "This is your burden, not mine." His voice was sudden and soft.

Incredulity filled Kirstin. A man who would not help a crippled girl regain the use of her legs was selfish and cruel. Her lips curled in disgust.

His face remained impassive. "The task is yours, however, I shall assist you as needed." His long, thin torso leaned forward. "But know that the success or failure of this endeavor is with you." In one motion he stood and swept out of the room.

"Thank you." Kirstin called as the oak door shut behind him. She leaned back against the pillows propped up on the headboard. Her thoughts swam.

A few minutes later the heavy door opened again. Elle hurried into the room, panting. She sat Kirstin's book bag, which bulged with the extra items in it, beside the bed and dropped into the chair. A basket sat on her lap.

"How are you doing? Does it still hurt?" The sunlight from the window made her eyes look as if they had specks of warm honey in them.

Kirstin gave her a fond smile. "I feel a lot better. Madame Pomfrey put a potion on me that made it stop hurting." She nodded toward Elle's lap, "What's in the basket?"

Elle put a hand on the container and lifted her chin in pride. "Well, I figured you probably wouldn't be able to go down to lunch, and you said the house elves liked you, so I had them prepare a meal for us. I know it isn't lunch time yet, but I only wanted to make one trip up here."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." Kirstin sat straighter against the white, fluffy pillows. "So what did they pack?"

Elle's long, elegant fingers opened the basket. "They made you special food. A grilled prosciutto, pesto, and brie cheese sandwich. I have no idea what half of that even is." She pulled out two wrapped parcels and put them on the edge of the bed. "Some strawberries, a salad with candied pecans and goat cheese, and sugar cookies with special messages on them." She took the lid off a tin and handed it to Kirstin. Inside were cookies that said, "Get Well" with hearts on them.

Kirstin imagined Silvy frosting the cookies with a pastry bag the size of her torso.

"You know what? I'm hungry now. I'm going to eat the sandwich while it's still warm." She unwrapped a sandwich and inhaled the scent of prosciutto. It smelled like happiness. She smiled when she bit into it and savored the subtle, balanced flavors.

The wrapping of the other sandwich crackled when Elle unwrapped it. She examined the fillings between the grilled bread and took a tentative bite. Her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh. That's really good." The doubt in her eyes was replaced with wonder.

Kirstin chuckled. She loved watching people discover quality food, the food she loved and cooked. "It's very good. This is the type of thing I cook at home."

One of Elle's hands covered her mouth as she spoke through a mouth of prosciutto. "You can cook for me anytime."

They fell into silence while they ate the sandwiches. Kirstin watched Elle; the way her chocolate hair swooped forward when her chin tilted downward. How she tucked the tresses behind her ears, revealing her high cheekbones. An air of grace surrounded her, yet was infused with energy and mischief. Soon, men would notice her and women would envy her. Her beauty was one of complexity. Amusement always shone in her eyes in response to an inward commentary on the world around her.

"You knew I was going to get hurt, didn't you? And you knew it was a bad idea for me to go down to the kitchens last night."

Elle stopped eating and stared at her sandwich. "Yeah." She would not meet Kirstin's eyes. "Well, I guess I didn't really know you were going to get hurt; I just had a feeling." Her fingers picked at the sandwich wrapper. "I don't know. It's weird."

"Has it happened before?" Kirstin watched her fidget.

Elle's pink lips parted to speak and she looked toward the window, her brow furrowed. "I guess. I never really paid any attention to it. I thought it was just gut feelings, like intuition or something. But lately, it's been happening more often." She looked down, her long eyelashes creating a crescent fan on her cheeks. "It's getting stronger."

"Do you think you can predict the future?"

Elle frowned and squirmed.

Kirstin changed tactics. "I should have listened to you. But on the other hand, if I had let you take the potion, you would have gotten hurt."

Elle looked at Kirstin with regret and shook her head. "No. I wouldn't have. I would have gone down the other aisle to get to his desk." Her voice was firm and certain; clearly she had thought through the situation several times.

Kirstin waved her hand in dismissal. "It's not your fault. Plus, with the way my day has been going, I should have known better than to take the vial up."

A shy smile sneaked onto Elle's face. "Your day really has sucked."

A small chuckle forced its way out of Kirstin's lips, and then she fell silent, thinking. "Have you ever tried focusing on these feelings?"

Elle shook her head. "I don't think anything would happen."

Kirstin persisted. "But you have to remember that you're a witch—you have magic. Maybe this is magic."

Doubt clouded Elle's face. "Real seers are rare. Extremely rare. It's probably just some sort of intuition thing."

Kirstin raised her eyebrows. "So what if they're rare. You could be one of them. Why someone else and not you?" She gestured toward her legs. "Cripple witches are rare too, but look at me." Leaning forward, she captured Elle's eyes. "You just don't want to believe that you might be special. If you don't believe it, then no one else will." She looked at her atrophied legs, and then she told her friend of all that had transpired in the hospital wing.

"So you're going to make the potion?" Admiration shone in Elle's eyes.

That insatiable hunger was back. "I have to. I can't live my life like this and not try to help myself." Kirstin's voice was husky. "Snape said I'm talented at potions, and let's face it, if he says so, I am. And if I need help, I'll ask him." She realized she was trying to convince Elle that she was not crazy.

"What if-" The pretty girl chewed the inside of her lip. "What if it doesn't work?"

"I've thought about that. The worst that can happen is that I don't ever get to use my legs." Kirstin shrugged. "How is that any worse than now?"

Elle's words were cautious. "Well, that's not true. You could mess up the potion and poison yourself." She gave an apologetic grimace. "Look what the potion that spilled did to you."

Worry filled Kirstin. "Are you getting a bad feeling?"

Elle's eyes widened. "No! No, it doesn't work like that. I was just thinking of the bad things that could happen." She looked flattered by the importance Kirstin put on the intuition.

"I'm sure you'll be fine. You're smart." Elle tried to assure her.

Kirstin nodded. "Well, it's probably going to take a long time to make it." She leaned against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.

Elle sat on the bed beside Kirstin's right leg. "You'll figure something out. I didn't even know how to begin to fix that shrinking potion, and you did. That's with no potion experience." She patted Kirstin's knee.

Kirstin looked down at Elle. "I don't even know where to start."

"Here's where you start," Elle's voice held authority. "You ask Snape to help you first thing tomorrow." She waved a hand in front of Kirstin's face to get her attention. "Okay?"

Kirstin nodded with more resolve. "Yeah. You're right."

An impish grin spread across Elle's face. "Of course I am. Now, I have a sandwich to finish." She took a bite of her sandwich and looked toward the basket.

She cocked her head to the side. "What do you think strawberries would taste like on this?"

Kirstin thought. "It might be really good. Try it."

Elle got out the container of strawberries. "I will if you will."

The curtains drawn around Kirstin's hospital bed diffused the morning sun shining through the windows and surrounded her with a soft yellow light. She removed the bandage wrapped around her hand and looked at the pink skin. The night before, her hand was a red sore, shiny with histamine. Soon, her skin would be ivory again.

She used her crutch to hook the strap of her bloated book bag and pull it toward the bed. The uniform inside was crumpled, but the cotton was soft against her wounds. Before Kirstin left the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey fussed about the wrinkled clothes, casting a charm to straighten them and forced her patient to eat a small breakfast of toast.

Kirstin arrived at the office door of the potions master. She took a deep breath to regain her composure. Her hand was shaking with nervous excitement and she knocked on the door, beyond which was her future, her dream.

The hinges made no noise when the door opened, nor did the man who greeted her. He stepped aside and she entered the dim room, lit by candles with great stalactites of wax hanging from them. Kirstin felt surprise. The candles looked like they belonged in a vampire lair, yet the furnishings were simple and tasteful, if a bit worn. He sat in a stuffed armchair that had cushions tamped down by use. Kirstin sat in the chair opposite. The cushions were thick and looked new, though the upholstery matched the other chair.

The office was an apartment. Kirstin had not thought of the fact that the teachers live in the castle.

She attempted a nervous smile. "Thank you for helping me." She looked down at her hand, which did not look pink in the candlelight. "It really means a lot to me."

He did not acknowledge her words.

"I don't know where to begin." She sighed.

He gave a brisk nod. "The simplest place to begin is by looking at a potion that has similar results to those you wish to create."

She thought. "We've done shrinking potions. Is there a growth potion to reverse it?"

Approval showed in his eyes when he nodded his head. "What is the most important factor in making a potion effective?"

"The active ingredient." She leaned down to take her potions book out of her bag. "So, first I need to find the active ingredient in the growth potion and base my potion around it." The potion was not in the index of her book.

"That potion is not covered until third year." He said. With a swish of his wand, a book flew into his hand.

"After finding the ingredient, you must find any potions which effect bones, even adversely, to see which ingredients they have in common."

She nodded, memorizing the instructions.

"Come to me in a week with a list of possible ingredients."

Butterflies grew wings and flew in her stomach. In a week she would be one step closer to a real life.

They stood and she left, intending to spend her Saturday in the library.

**Well, what did you think? Let me know!**

**Thank you to all the reviewers—you have know idea how much they help me to keep writing instead of just abandoning the story.**


End file.
